Hark,
A throat sits pressed upon broken glass for a millennia.
Nothing wills change, dust settles.
Ashen skin peels, dying veins pulse.
The endless void expands, life drifts to seclusion.
No light, no colour; red cheeks relinquish to soot.
Scattered teeth, be urn to mortal anguish.
Thorn pierce’t fingertip bleed unto marked stone.
The specter of man languishes under a black moon.
Formless shadows cast against a tower’s walls; the silk veil of eternal passing silence.
Mouth gauzed with death, a remote whimper echos and dissolves into isolation.
A wounded fawn crawls into the snow and dies alongside humanity.
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